


Seducing the Senses

by wheretheskykissesthesea



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-23
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 13:55:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheretheskykissesthesea/pseuds/wheretheskykissesthesea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snapshots of relationship; based on the senses.  (Plus a prologue)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rossi doesn’t know what exactly he’s gotten himself into.

_There is no remedy for love but to love more. --Henry David Thoreau_

He didn’t want to call it a relationship because, as three failed marriages would testify, he wasn’t any good at those. Those same three marriages had left him with all sorts of not-quite-positive (bitter, really) emotions and ideas about the very word. So he wouldn’t call it a relationship. And at four a.m., while the younger man slept next to him, Rossi, wondered exactly what it was he _was_ doing with Derek Morgan.  
   
It wasn’t yet late enough for him to consider it morning, not even twilight, and he lay fully awake and still in the other man’s bed, eyes on the beautiful body, its taste still faintly gracing his tongue and not really seeing it. Or “him”, Rossi corrected himself. This body was not an “it”, it housed the soul of someone he cared about. In his own way. Perhaps not in the traditional hearts and flowers and whispered sentiments and stolen glances way, but there was a depth to it that kept him from outright denying all emotional attachment. But he wouldn’t call it a relationship, not in _that_ sense. It was so much more than that.

But what was it? Arrangement sounded vaguely dirty and dismissive. Not at all what this…thing was. Assignation didn’t carry the proper weight or permanence. He was too old for dating. What had Morgan called it the second time Rossi had showed up on his doorstep? A “booty call”? No, he wasn’t so old as to miss the implications of that phrase, and he wanted nothing to do with it. He couldn’t bring himself to say they were “together” either. There was an implied sweetness, near innocence, in that word that didn’t fit their thing. “Seeing each other” was too old-fashioned even for him. Maybe he’d just keep calling it a “thing”. When he called it anything. But Rossi didn’t care for that either. It didn’t have the necessary gravitas or the respect he had for Morgan.

“What _**was**_ this?” he asked himself again. But then Derek moved. Not much. The younger man never moved much while he slept, something that had surprised the usually unflappable Rossi. He’d expected Derek to move constantly, even in his sleep (and that he’d entertained thoughts about the sleeping habits of the man before this started said something). But once he fell asleep, Derek Morgan barely moved. And though this hadn’t been going on long, Rossi knew that Morgan moving in his sleep, especially so suddenly, usually indicated nightmares.  
   
And he knew how to soothe the younger man back to full sleep without too much fuss. So Rossi slowly reached out a hand, speaking softly before stroking the soft skin covering Morgan’s cheekbone and moving his hand along the slightly stubbled jaw before caressing strong shoulders; watched as gentle words and reassuring hands lulled the beautiful man back to sleep. As he watched Derek settle back to sleep, David admitted to himself that he may not know what to call this, but he knew what it was. 


	2. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek is a tease; Rossi thinks he is too old for this.

_Never underestimate the power of temptation to disarm your better senses.- Michael Josephson_

 

Somehow, despite his recently acquired negativity about carnivals, they’d managed to convince him to go with them. He blamed Morgan, of course, since it had been his idea, but he could admit to himself, if no one else, that it had been as much the look on Reid’s face as the expression on Derek’s. 

 

And the day had been going so well, too. Then Garcia had gone running to Derek, chattering rapidly about the carnival being in town, and Spencer had mentioned, almost casually, that he’d never been to one when he wasn’t looking for an unsub and Derek had apparently found that to be a travesty of some kind and in his full on protective big brother mode, had turned to charm everyone else into going. Rossi had been the last hold out, but eventually succumbed to the combined might of the not-willing-to-risk-being-hopeful expression of Spencer’s and the much less innocent promise of eventual restitution that barely hid behind Morgan’s smile and hooded eyes. Intentional, he was certain. And damn if he hadn’t almost said no anyway when he caught Hotch smirking at him. There was no privacy amongst profilers, especially ones this good. 

 

And so he agreed and was rewarded with Derek’s grin getting even wider. Smug was a good look on the nearly too perfect face and a man with less self-control than Rossi would have pinned the younger man against a desk in front of God and everyone. 

 

The trip had been relatively uneventful; Derek’s near constant teasing of Spencer and the back and forth between Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid interspersed with J.J.’s big sisterly interjections and Garcia’s apparently inexhaustible enthusiasm for almost painful color and light had become comforting in its way. He’d have felt worse about not joining in if anyone had expected it of him and if Hotch hadn’t been there. Though he hadn’t been able to help laughing at the look on the face of the poor kid manning some game involving throwing darts at balloons when J.J. had won everyone stuffed animals. 

 

Eventually, even Garcia had run out of energy and they’d made their way back to their cars. Derek had somehow ended up driving both Garcia and Reid to the carnival and would be driving them back home. Rossi was heading home himself, but was confident that Derek would arrive not too long after. He tossed the bright pink monkey onto the couch, started the coffee maker and went to wash off the grime of the fairgrounds, savoring the shower, instead of rushing through in an effort to be efficient. He mentally reviewed the best part of the outing, feeling ridiculous for doing so, but unable to stop himself.

 

Part of the “carnival experience”, according to Prentiss and Garcia, was the food. They’d tried to convince Spencer to try some of everything, succeeding quite often. Rossi and Hotch had funnel cake, while J.J. had eaten something claiming to be a deep-fried candy bar. He’d felt his arteries contracting in fear at the very thought of it. Derek had declined almost all of the junk food, surprising no one, which hadn’t stopped the gentle teasing. His eyes lighted up, though, at a booth that sold cotton candy. He’d purchased one for everyone. Dave had been immediately suspicious and on guard when he caught the mischievous smirk on Derek’s face when the younger man passed one to him. 

 

This had done absolutely nothing to stop the flash of lust that burned through him upon seeing Derek’s method of eating the spun sugar. He’d pinch off a bit and flick his tongue out slightly before opening his mouth to catch it between his lips and suck. Once he got to the end of that bit, he’d slightly suck the tip of his fingers into his mouth. Rossi had been briefly distracted by the hollowing of stubbled brown cheeks before having his attention drawn back to full lips by the sudden movement of Derek’s tongue. He just knew Hotch had been watching. And probably smirking at his distraction.

 

And now, here he was reliving it, intentionally, though not altogether willingly. Dave sighed at himself and got out of the shower, still feeling like a bit of a fool. He dried off and put on pajamas he knew would be coming off soon, headed downstairs just in time to catch Derek’s knock. Rossi opened the door to the younger man leaning against the doorjamb. Cocky, he thought, and smiled to himself. He’d been accused of the same thing, admitted that he often was. He liked someone who knew what they had going for them. He stood aside, closing the door behind Morgan and waited for him to take off shoes and his shirt, then offered coffee. He walked off toward the kitchen, confident even without a verbal answer. Dave knew how Morgan took his coffee and handed the young man a mug, watched him sip and heard a low sound of pleasure before grabbing the mug back and placing it on the counter.

 

He moved closer, pressing himself against the muscular body and slid his tongue gently across full lips tasting of coffee, was rewarded when large hands pulled him and crushed their mouths firmly together. He parted Morgan’s lips with his tongue, caught the muted moan and smiled slightly, relishing the taste of coffee and cotton candy.

  



	3. Hearing

_Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: were I but little happy, if I could say how much. -William Shakespeare_  

 

 

He wakes up at a time of night that once would have seen him just getting home. Now he wishes that he was still asleep. Next to him, Dave **is** still asleep and Derek lay there and glances at the older man, trying to decide whether to leave or not. He doesn’t want to; he likes sleeping in Rossi’s bed, likes the comfort of a warm body next to him and not having to protect himself from it.

 

Derek wriggles slightly in place before turning onto his side to see the lined face that, even in sleep, is guarded. He wants to reach out to Dave, if only physically, to rest his head on the other man’s chest, to fall asleep to the rhythm of the beating heart. He won’t, though. He’s not certain it would be welcome; they’ve not discussed this and, for once, Derek is willing to let that go. For now.

 

It’s not that he doesn’t realize it’s something more than a quick fuck. That can be found anywhere; he knows that Dave is desirable, albeit in a different way the he is. The older man can be charming when he wants to and seduction seems to come naturally to him. Derek is certain at least half of Rossi’s appeal can be attributed to his voice. He still flushes to remember the second night they spent together.

 

Morgan had been completely unprepared for Dave’s unabashed eroticism. He’d jumped like a virgin when the other man had splayed confident fingers across his hips and steered him to the large leather sofa in the living room before padding off to the kitchen for beer. Upon returning, Rossi had sat, not on the other side of the couch, but between Derek and the arm, not leaving enough space between them for air to pass through. Derek had tensed up more and more while Rossi made small talk. 

 

He wasn’t nervous or afraid, which surprised him some, but had long lost track of what Rossi had been saying due to the distraction that the man’s voice provided. Apparently, Dave decided to take pity on the younger man and wrapped his arm around the trim waist. Morgan had relaxed instantly, even leaning into the slighter man. Until he started whispering directly into his ear. 

 

It had been impossible to ignore what he was saying this time. Derek knew that the brain was the most often ignored, but most important sex organ. And Dave must have as well; his imagination had obviously been at work and he’d decided to give Derek’s a work out as well. By the time Rossi moved his lips to Derek’s neck, the younger man was panting like he’d sprinted a mile and couldn’t seem to open his eyes. He couldn’t help whimpering when the hypnotic voice stopped, but was relieved when it suggested they go upstairs. 

 

Dave had talked the whole way up, telling Derek exactly what he wanted to do, what he wanted Derek to do. He’d taken off his own clothes and “assisted” Derek as well. He led the other man to the bed, sitting with his back against the headboard before pulling Morgan to sit between his legs. He’d changed his tone slightly when Derek flinched, still seductive, but somehow calming, too. He’d drifted his hands back to the firm waist, massaging a bit before wrapping his arms around, constantly reassuring the other. Eventually, muscles untensed and Morgan relaxed against the older man’s chest. Dave had picked up where he left off; describing the heat of Derek’s parted lips and the sweat that glistened across a wide-spread body. As Rossi continued, the brown-skinned man felt every muscle in his body tense yet again and his back arched. His fingers clawed at the thighs under his hands. He felt as if he were going to come from his lover’s voice. He was still surprised, though, when he did; Dave had only lightly run his hands over his hips. When he managed to open his eyes, Dave was stroking his shoulders in a gentle massage.

 

Looking back on that night now, Derek is still blushing. He’d been embarrassed by how easily he climaxed but enjoyed the self-satisfied look Rossi had been wearing. He’d fallen asleep almost immediately after, but had awakened a few hours later. The older man had been asleep by then, but had seemingly cleaned them up first. Derek had slipped from the bed and left.

 

Right now, though, he wasn’t leaving. He wanted Dave to wake up, to talk to him, to listen, to touch him. There is so much he wants to say to this man, that he wants to hear, but he gave up wishing for things a long time ago. Instead, Derek inches closer to the smaller man and falls asleep to the steady sound of his lover’s breathing.

   
  
 


	4. See

Sometimes he catches himself staring at Derek and can't make himself stop. It's a little embarrassing, but he just can't tear his eyes away. He's sure it would be much worse if everyone else wasn't doing the same thing or if more noticed that he was. Rossi knows that Derek is aware of the eyes on him, knows the the beautiful younger man doesn't particularly care whether he's being watched; he's just used to it. In public places, in spaces the two of them share with other people, it's more aesthetic; the appreciation of something so breathtaking, so close to perfect that he just has to stop. He's not alone in this: Garcia is the most honest about her esteem; both JJ and Prentiss accept Derek's appeal and try to ignore it; more than once, Spencer has been seen just watching, frowning as though he's finally run into something he can't understand. And Hotch, well, he's caught Hotch looking at Morgan exactly once and Dave tries not to analyze that look at all. But he can understand it, the reaction to that sort of absolute artistry. 

But he knows Derek prefers that people look beyond his body and Dave also knows that the younger man has been disappointed by some people's inability to do so. He remembers their first night together, how surprised Morgan had been when Rossi had wanted conversation before sex. He remembers the brown eyes, hidden by lashes and still looking at everything besides Dave, had been looking at a Van Gogh print when he softly expressed confusion over the older man's actions before admitting, even more quietly: "People don't so much want to take me home as they want to take me to bed." 

And this is what Rossi sees when he looks at Derek. Besides the symmetry, the brilliant smile, the sculpted-looking loveliness; he sees Derek, all of him, and still can't stop looking.


	5. Smell

They're on the plane back from Oregon when Morgan finally gives up hiding. It's a long flight home, he's more tired than he's been in years, and the last case hit closer to home than he cares to dwell on. In the interest of his sanity, he rests his head on Rossi's shoulder, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He feels the older man's soft, rough chuckle and can't help the slight smile that flickers across his lips. Rossi knows him well enough to have figured out what he's up to. Gradually, Derek moves his face closer, until the tip of his nose just barely brushes his lover's neck. He feels a change in breathing pattern and now it's the Dave's turn to take a steadying breath; his neck is sensitive and Morgan knows it. But now is not the time to exploit his knowledge, because he can still smell the coppery odor in the air of the small house outside Portland and frowns at the thought.

In an effort to keep the mental images from blooming fully across his mind's eye, he nuzzles his face further into Dave's neck and breathes in, replacing the sharp scent that he still can't stop remembering with the spicy, slightly sweet smell of Rossi's cologne and the simple, unlayered clean smell of his soap and detergent. It is familiar to him and comforts and relaxes him in a way he didn't think he'd get anywhere away from his mother.

Derek inhales again, deeply, and when he slowly exhales, he's calmer and lifts his head off the warm shoulder, brushing his lips over the other man's neck. He leans back, rests his head on the headrest before opening his eyes. Around him, the rest of the team is not at all surprised. Spencer and J.J. both have smug looks on their faces and have gone back to their cards. Prentiss isn't looking at him or Rossi, but neither is she reading the book she is holding. Instead, she's studying, covertly as she can, Hotch's reaction. This causes Derek to glance at him as well and sees that Hotch is not looking back at him. Instead, he's watching Rossi, a slight furrow spread across his brow. Morgan doesn't have time to place the expression on his face before Rossi moves one hand from his book to lightly stroke the younger man's jaw. Relaxing again, not having realized that he'd tensed up to start with, Derek leans back in his seat, closes his eyes and has dreams he can smell even after he wakes up.


	6. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Derek stops touching him, Rossi notices.

Derek Morgan was a tactiley inclined person around certain people and under the right conditions. Rossi had realized this soon after meeting the younger profiler. But it was when they started sleeping together on a regular basis that Dave realized exactly how much Morgan loved touching and being touched. He never woke in a bed with Derek without have some part of the younger man pressed against him. He got used to it. But the touching wasn't just sexual or even sensual. In hindsight, he should have expected it; Derek could often be found hugging, petting, or just being near his fellow profilers. He was surprisingly quick to put a hand on someone's shoulder or even invade their personal space to create intimacy and offer his comfort and strength. It was just part of the way he communicated.

Dave knew the value of human contact, had read the studies about infants who'd failed to thrive without a loving touch. He just wasn't that free with himself. Which wasn't to say he was as reserved as Hotch, just that he wasn't as demonstrative as his lover. He wasn't so good at the comforting part anyway, too willing to be completely honest; he expressed approval and appreciation in other ways.

But then Derek stopped touching him unless they were in bed or about to be. It took longer to notice it than he'd admit to anyone. And he hadn't figured it out without prompting. He'd been watching Morgan tease Reid until Spencer had turned beet red at something undoubtedly dirty that Derek had said. Derek had noticed and, instead of continuing on as he usually would have, smiled an apology and placed a large hand on the back of Spencer's neck, pulling him closer until he was able to sling an arm across the boy's shoulders. Spencer had huddled there uncertainly while Derek had squeezed softly and smiled and whispered things to Reid until the younger man had calmed down and was grinning again. Rossi still wouldn't have noticed if not for a strange expression on Prentiss's face when she flicked her eyes in his direction. 

He'd paid closer attention after that and realized that no one else escaped Morgan; even Hotch had been nudged with one shoulder in a request for his attention. Rossi let it go for three days, curious about the sudden change in behavior and worried because when his second wife stopped touching him, it was because she'd found someone else to touch her. It was this memory that spurred Rossi to act.

That third night, they'd both ended up at Morgan's, ordered Thai and sat in front of the television, eating and talking and being away from work. Derek still wasn't touching him, not so much as a jean clad thigh pressed against his. It was an impressive feat considering their equally splayed positions. Eventually, they'd stopped talking, just lay sprawled across the couch and Dave moved his leg, pressing his thigh firmly against Derek's, watched out of the corner of his eye, and smiled at the slightly pleased grin on Derek's face


End file.
